A Study in Roderich
by Lydiacatfish
Summary: After a distress call from her husband, Elisabeta Edelstein and her friend, Detective Francis Bonnefois, go to investigate a murder in a little town in the middle of nowhere. Can they prove Elisabeta's husband innocent of this crime, or will the killer take the lives of one of our heroes next? Sequel to Murder on the Vargas Express. Rating may change to M for themes.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

_In which several stories are told, and more are not._

Paris was lovely this time of the year. Well, Paris was always lovely, but there was something about the way the snow wreathed the lampposts and coated everything white that made the city truly sparkle. The whole world twinkled as the beauty and purity of Paris became evident, and there was no place Detective Francis Bonnefois would rather be.

It was too bad that he would be leaving it all behind in a matter of minutes to follow his—dare he say it—best friend's husband distress call to a town in the middle of nowhere to help prove him innocent of a most heinous crime.

Well, they would certainly try. Francis wasn't exactly a miracle worker. Oh, he'd proven people innocent before, but none of them were so close to home. (Well, home was an apartment in downtown Paris, but he sometimes shared that home with his best friend Elisabeta, and it was quite close to her home as it was her husband.)

Truly, Francis was not looking forward to this case, no matter how much Elisabeta gushed to him about how wonderful and handsome her husband was, and how beautiful his manor home was, and how picturesque the town (called Altstadt) was. The only thing that would even begin to make up taking him away from his beautiful city in her most perfect state would be a score of French maids to comfort him while he was trapped in Austria-Hungary, and that was very unlikely.

He moped for the entire train ride, and refused to stop even when they'd finally made it to Altstadt. Elisabeta had threatened to hit him several times, but she wouldn't. She was too excited about seeing her husband (who she frequently cheated on) again, and too anxious about his current predicament.

She was so excited and so anxious, in fact, that she refused to let Francis drop his luggage off at the manor house her husband owned before visiting said husband in prison.

It wasn't _so _bad. The prison was actually connected to the manor house, as Elisabeta's husband just happened to be a baron or something. Francis normally wouldn't have cared, but it was something she'd neglected to tell him. He was a bit miffed about the whole thing.

The prison was really more of a dungeon. It was dank, and dark, with _torches_ instead of normal lights (Torches! In 1900! They could have used _lamps, _or something!), and most of the cells were moldy and didn't look as if they'd been cleaned in years. Elisabeta's husband, Roderich, also happened to be the only prisoner, the only one in a long while, according to the single guard. He hadn't wanted to let them in to see Roderich, but Elisabeta had…persuaded him.

She'd done such a good job that the guard had _unlocked the cell and let them inside._ Francis thought that was a bit too unprofessional, and told Elisabeta and Roderich to fire him straight away. "Why would we fire someone who does what we want so well?" Elisabeta had asked him. Francis hadn't had an answer to that.

As soon as she was let into the cell, she pushed her bags into Francis' hands and launched herself at her husband. "Roderich! Oh, dear, are you all right?" She embraced him tightly, then looked him over for any sorts of wounds. "Are you sick? Have they been feeding you enough?" she demanded.

"Yes, I'm fine. Though I must say, the food is far under par here. They only serve me bread and cheese and water. Me! Their baron! It's an insult, really," he sniffed, and Elisabeta grinned, while Francis just grimaced at the Austrian's spoiled behavior.

"I'll see what I can do about that," she said, and Roderich thanked her.

"_Hem hem." _Francis took the lull in the dreadfully boring conversation to remind them of his existence. "I believe we're here for a case, not disgusting…cuddly…nonsense. Not that I don't approve, but this is neither the time northe place."

The happy couple went red simultaneously. "Yes, of course," said Elisabeta. "I forgot myself for a moment there. It's just been so long since I've seen my husband…"

"I'm aware," Francis replied dryly. "But, let's get down to business, shall we?"

Roderich nodded. "Any information you need, I will provide."

"Start with the basics. Who was murdered? How were they murdered? And then tell us exactly how you didn't do it," Francis said.

"Right. Well, the victim's name is Nicole Dupont. She was one of our maids. Her sister also works for us, her name is Chelle Dupont. I believe they're from France." Francis smiled to himself. Maybe this trip wouldn't be so bad after all. "I believe she was strangled. I was in the piano room, composing, when I heard a scream. I rushed toward the source and found Nicole lying dead on the floor of our grand foyer. A few seconds later, her sister ran up, saw me standing over the body, and accused me of killing her on the spot. She wouldn't stop screaming until the entire staff appeared, and I had no choice but to let them arrest me. They brought me here about a week ago."

Francis nodded. "And why should we believe this story, Monsieur Edelstein?"

Elisabeta gave him an appalled look. "Because he's my husband, that's why! Francis, I swear I will—"

"No, it's fine, Elisabeta." Roderich shot her a reassuring smile. "I understand why you may be doubting me. But I swear on everything I hold dear to me, I did not kill Nicole Dupont. I do not know who did, or why, but I will try to help your investigation as best as I can."

Francis sighed. "Well, you haven't given me any reason not to trust you yet. I shall take your word that you did not kill this poor girl." He nodded to himself. Now to find the French maid, see if she needed comforting. "Come, Elisabeta. We have a staff to question." The guard opened the cell door and Francis strode out of it, Elisabeta at his heels. He noticed with a twinge of annoyance that she kissed her husband before following. She was _supposed _to follow immediately. It was her job, as his assistant.

Not that he paid her, but still. It was irritating.

_And _to make matters worse, she wouldn't stop scolding him about how he had treated her husband. "I can't believe you. Roderich is a wonderful, kind man, and you treated him like…urgh! You were so _rude! _Ruder than usual, too. You could have tried to show a little respect, seeing as you'll be staying in his house, eating his food, attempting to sleep with his maids, everything!"

"Oh, like all the respect you show him? Prancing around Europe, pleasuring any man who looks good enough?"

Elisabeta went red with rage. _"How dare you? _How _dare _you? I _love _my husband—"

"Yes, and you've loved at least four _other _men in the time I've been with you. Let's see, what were their names again? There was the Dutch one, the Portugese one, the Russian one, and most recently Gilbert, on a train, _in the middle of an investigation._"

"Like you haven't loved women, and then loved more behind their backs!" Elisabeta retorted. "Besides, love is about forgiveness. I love Roderich, and he loves me, and he will forgive me for my sins. Have _you _ever loved a woman for more than a night?" she asked scathingly.

"Yes. She died. In a fire. And I'm getting tired of this conversation." Francis scowled.

"I…I'm sorry…" Elisabeta seemed truly shocked. Well, she would. He'd never really told anyone, after all.

"You should be."

The rest of their walk to the manor house was silent.

When they arrived, Elisabeta had the butler (whose name Francis didn't catch, and so he decided to call him Jeeves) summon the entire staff for questioning. Francis immediately singled out the small, tan French maid with the twintails held up by bright red ribbons. "You. I would like to question you first."

"Yes, sir." She curtseyed. Francis enjoyed that.

He and Elisabeta took the girl to a small sitting room. At this point it was about 5 o'clock, and the sun had already started to set, bathing the room in soft orange and yellow light. "What is your name, Miss?" Francis asked.

"My name is Chelle Dupont. I am a maid."

Francis nodded. "The victim was your sister, correct?"

Chelle nodded. "We were twins, though we didn't look very similar. Fraternal, I think the word is."

"Tell me about the night of the murder."

"Yes. Ah, let's see. I was dusting the third guest room when I heard someone screaming. I knew immediately that it was my sister, so I came running as fast as I could. I found the baron in the grand foyer, standing over my sister's body. It looked like he was shaking, though I could not tell. I was too upset. I immediately yelled, 'Murderer!' and by then the entire staff had come running. I just kept yelling 'Murderer! Murderer!' at him until finally they took him away." She looked at the floor, feeling ashamed. "And that is my story."

"Thank you for helping us with this investigation, Chelle," Elisabeta said kindly, her anger from earlier gone. "We will do our best to find your sister's _real _killer." Francis noted the accentuated _real _before killer. Obviously she wasn't going to believe any story that pinned her husband as the killer.

"Please send someone else in," Francis said as the girl left. As soon as the door shut, he said to Elisabeta, "She's hiding something."

"You think so?" she asked. "Perhaps _she _killed her sister and is blaming it on Roderich. Or…"

"She's not lying, there's just something she's not telling us," Francis clarified. "As to what, I have no idea."

They questioned the entire household staff for another hour and a half, for all the good it did them. The last two they talked to were an albino cook who looked suspiciously like Gilbert Beilschmidt (but when asked, she had no idea who they were talking about) named Julchen Amsel and an Italian maid named Felicia Vargas, who turned out to be the cousin of the Feliciano and Lovino Vargas they had met recently.

"And where were you on the night of the murder?" Francis droned tiredly.

"We were on the other side of the house, baking bread for breakfast the next morning," Julchen said. "We came running when we heard the scream, and most of the staff was already there by then. Right, Feli?" she asked her companion sharply.

"S-Si," the Italian girl said shakily.

"If you're a maid, why were you baking bread?" Elisabeta asked. Felicia went white.

"I, er, it's um, a complicated—"

"She was just helping me. Everyone else was busy and I needed help kneading the bread," Julchen said loudly. Francis raised one perfectly-shaped eyebrow.

"Is that so?"

"S-Si! It is! That's exactly what it was," Felicia replied quickly.

Francis stared the pair down for another minute. "No further questions," he said suddenly. "Go back to work."

Felicia couldn't seem to leave the room fast enough, while Julchen swaggered out confidently. Francis stretched.

"That was suspicious, wasn't it?" Elisabeta murmured to herself. "I wonder what was wrong with that Felicia girl."

"Probably just nervous, if she's anything like her cousin from the train," Francis replied as his shoulders popped. The sitting room's furniture was comfortable, but after sitting in the same position for an hour and a half, his joints were more stiff than poor Nicole Dupont's corpse.

Elisabeta called for Jeeves, and he took them to a large dining room with an enormous table. Dinner was served to the two of them in a matter of minutes, and they ate silently.

Afterwards, they were off to bed. Elisabeta stayed in the master suite, while Francis was given the guestroom down the hall. He bade his assistant went goodnight and collapsed onto the mahogany four-poster, thoughts of the pretty French maid absent from his mind.

Despite how tired he was from the past day, he found he could not sleep. He tossed and turned for hours, until at about midnight he got out of bed and trudged down to where the kitchen allegedly was for a glass of water.

Just as he was pushing the door open, he heard someone say, "Remember, if you tell _anyone, _there will be hell to pay. Understand?"

"I understand!" another person squeaked. Both were clearly female, and the conversation intrigued Francis. He pressed an ear to the door.

"When my plan is complete, I will pay you greatly for your silence. You can't say _anything, _though, or I'll make sure you never say anything again."

"Yes! I understand!" the other person sobbed.

He heard footsteps coming toward the door and quickly hid. The door opened and a woman strode out, judging by her looks from the side, but her hair was hidden under a cap and it was dark, so he could not tell what kind of uniform she wore.

Francis grinned. Finally, things were getting interesting.

**AN: And there you have it! This one feels different from the last one. Is it just me?**

**Anyway, explanations. Nicole Dupont=Monaco. Chelle Dupont=Seychelles. Julchen Amsel=Fem!Prussia. Felicia Vargas=Fem!Italy.**

**If you're wondering how Chelle and Nicole can be twins when Chelle has a much darker complexion than Nicole, there is a backstory to that. It is possible for that to happen, but only in cases of gang rape and prostitution. Chelle and Nicole's story is based on the latter. Is that enough of an explanation? I hope so.**

**Did you like those allusions to previous adventures these two have had? I might write them up one day, but the first one will be talked about a lot in the next story. And then there's at least two more before the MotVE and after the first meeting story. I should make a chart or something.**

**And anyone who caught the vague Harry Potter reference gets 8,462 catfish points. Which are worth less than a peso, but still.**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_In which the reasons for a marriage are presented, and the unfaithfulness in the marriage is revealed._

The next morning at around 8:00, during breakfast in the same huge dining hall they had supped in the night before, Francis told Elisabeta of the conversation he had overhead the night previous.

"Do you think it might have something to do with Miss Dupont's murder?" Elisabeta asked excitedly. "With this we could prove Roderich innocent!"

"Only if we find out they were talking about the murder. And I have no idea who these two young women were," Francis pointed out. Elisabeta deflated and frowned. "But fear not, for I shall do my best to find out their identities."

"Please do."

"I'll need to question your staff again. The female members only, or male members who have high voices."

"Of course. Just ask the butler," Elisabeta said. "Shall I help?"

Francis shook his head. "You don't know what the strangers' voices are like. You won't really be of any use. Why don't you go visit your husband in the jail? I'm sure he would be delighted to see you again."

Elisabeta brightened up. "That's an excellent idea." She finished her meal quickly, then dashed off to get her coat.

Francis, when he had finished his meal, called Jeeves and told him to summon the female portion of the staff. The women formed a line for him and he strutted up and down it like a peacock. Finally, he stopped short and pointed at the young girl in front of him. "You."

"M-Me?" Felicia Vargas looked as though she were about to wet herself when he pointed at her. "Y-Yes, sir…"

Jeeves escorted them to the same sitting room Francis had used to question the entire staff the day before. "Please, sit," Francis told Felicia. The Italian girl sat down gingerly, as if she were afraid the chair would eat her.

"W-What did you want to ask, Mr. Bonnefois?"

Francis leaned back. "Where were you last night at about midnight?"

The blood drained from Felicia's face. "I-I was in bed, sir. Sleeping. What a silly question," she replied shakily.

Francis was not convinced. "You weren't, say, in the kitchen?"

Now she looked as if she _had _wet herself, and was desperately trying to cover it up. "N-No! I wasn't in the kitchen, or anywhere near it, except the servants' quarters are right by the kitchen, so I guess you could say I was near it, but other than that, nope, not in the kitchen at all!" She laughed shakily, as if to cover up the urge to cry.

Francis nodded. "Thank you. You may leave." She got up quickly and all but ran out of the room.

Francis smiled to himself. That was very suspicious. In fact, it was so suspicious it was almost a certain thing she was lying. Still, she hadn't talked nearly enough for him to tell if her voice was that of either of the women he had heard in the kitchen the night before. "Next!" he barked.

Lovely little Chelle Dupont sidled into the room. "Yes, Monsieur?"

"Sit down." She sat down in the large chair across from Francis' own. "Now, Miss Dupont, where were you last night at about midnight?"

"Sleeping," she replied flatly.

"You weren't in the kitchen?"

"No. I was sleeping."

Francis nodded slowly. "I see. Miss Dupont, I'm going to be frank. Was there anything you left out of your story that you told Mrs. Edelstein and I last night?"

Chelle stiffened. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

Francis grinned. "I'm sure I do. Come, Mrs. Edelstein isn't here, you can tell me whatever you want."

The girl swallowed. "Well, um, there was one thing. My sister and I were cleaning the third guest room that night, and she told me that she had decided to put her plan into motion."

"What plan?" Francis asked, eyes narrowing on the quivering girl before him.

"Her plan to seduce Mr. Edelstein, sir. For his money."

Francis leaned back in his chair. Oh, that _did _make it interesting. "Do you know any details of what her plan was?"

Chelle nodded. "She had already sort of started it. She, er, shortened the skirt on her uniform, and lowered the neckline, and made sure to bring Mr. Edelstein his coffee and things whenever she could to try to get him to notice her. The night when she was m-mur…when she died, she told me he had started to pay attention, so she was ready to take things to the next level."

"Take things to the next level how?" Francis asked.

Chelle shrugged. "I don't know, sir. She didn't tell me. All I know is, she had started to implement her plan, and then I found Mr. Edelstein standing over her dead body. Doesn't that seem a bit suspicious to you?"

"Well, when a pretty young girl tries to seduce _me, _I try not to kill them. I usually go along with it."

Chelle blushed. "That's all I know, sir."

"Fine, you're free to go." He waved her off and she left the room.

Why would Roderich try to kill a girl for attempting to seduce him? He seemed to be a sensible man, and even if he _were _to reject her advances, he wasn't the kind of man to kill a girl to say no. Even Elisabeta wasn't beautiful enough to bring on such violent tendencies in men. Women, yes, as with the case in Belgium, but never _men. _Perhaps Roderich was a first. That was assuming he killed Nicole Dupont, of course.

"Next!"

Julchen Amsel swaggered into the room. "Hello, sir."

"Hello. Please sit." She dropped into the chair lazily, with the air that it was going to take a lot to get her out of there now that she was in it.

"You have some questions to ask, sir?" she asked.

"Yes. Where were you at about midnight last night?"

"What's it to you, sir? Why does it matter?" she inquired sharply.

"It's just a harmless question."

"I was _sleeping. _Like a _normal person._" She glared at him.

"You weren't in, say, the kitchen?"

"What are you implying?" she cried, leaning toward him. "You saying I was stealing food or something, sir?"

"No, it was just a question. If that's all you have to say, you can leave."

"You don't have to tell me twice!" She stormed out of the room.

Francis was quite taken aback. She had seemed generally upset about his questioning. And her voice…there was no doubt, she was the threatening woman in the kitchen. But who was she threatening, and what kind of connection could it have to Nicole Dupont's murder? Did it even _have _a connection to Nicole Dupont's murder?

"Next!"

While Francis questioned the female staff of the Edelstein mansion, both of the Edelsteins were sitting in a dank, grey prison cell. Elisabeta had smuggled in several fruit tarts for her husband, and he was eating them as she chatted away about her cases with Francis. But when he had finished them, he cleared his throat and said, "Elisabeta, I have something I would like to tell you."

"What is it?" Elisabeta smiled at her husband, who was starting to feel very guilty.

"The girl who was killed, Nicole Dupont…"

"What about her?"

"She was, er…well, she was trying to, ah…how do I put this? She was trying to bring herself into my favor." Roderich nodded. That should work.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Elisabeta asked.

Roderich sighed. "She was trying to seduce me."

"Oh."

"And on the night she was murdered, she was doing that, and it was working. A bit."

"A bit?"

"Just a bit. She just started at it, on her knees, while I was composing, and I was, well, powerless to stop her." Roderich looked at the floor of his cell, ashamed.

"That's all right," Elisabeta said quietly. "I haven't exactly been faithful, either."

"How so?" Roderich asked.

"I have been with other men. Not Francis, no, never Francis, but men we meet on our adventures."

"I see."

Both were silent for several minutes. "We've got a terrible marriage, haven't we?" Roderich sighed.

"Yes. Yes we do."

"Well, we always thought we would, ever since we became engaged."

Elisabeta smiled. "That's right. I remember it like it was yesterday."

"As do I. We were in your father's home, and it was just a few days past the funeral, and my sister's was to be the very next day, and my mother said to me, 'You'll just have to marry the girl in your sister's stead,'" Roderich said, imitating his mother's voice.

"Yes, my father told me basically the same thing. 'Now that your brother is gone and his bride-to-be has decided to go with him, you and that boy will just have to marry instead.'" She, too, imitated the voice of her father.

Both of them chuckled. "So I went up to see you, to see if you'd found out about it, and before I could even get a word in, you said, 'Look. I don't want to marry you. You're rather feminine, for a man, and kind of prissy and spoiled, and I've never really met you, and I really doubt this marriage is even going to work out like they want it, and I definitely don't love you like Daniel loved Maria. But we've got to get married, and we are _going _to stick together. Not because I like you, not because you like me, but for _their _sake. Got it?'" Roderich said in the voice of a younger girl.

Elisabeta blushed. "I was far too wild back then. I apologize for the insults."

"Well, they were true, and I suppose I deserved them."

"They _were _true? Dear, you're still rather feminine. And don't you tell me that you're not spoiled anymore," she added teasingly. "But I must admit you grew on me."

"You as well."

Elisabeta smiled. "Will you forgive me for my atrocious adultery, then, Mr. Edelstein? If not for our sake, but for the sake of Maria?"

"Only if you forgive me for mine, Mrs. Edelstein. Even if it's not for our sake, but for the sake of Daniel."

"Oh, well, when you put it like that, I _must _accept," Elisabeta said.

"I feel the same way," Roderich agreed.

Elisabeta slid her hand into Roderich's and twisted her fingers around his. With her free hand, she turned his head toward hers, and kissed him softly on the mouth before leaning her head on his shoulder contentedly.

He rested his head on hers, and they sat on the floor of the cell just like that until the sun had risen to the middle of the sky.

* * *

**AN: That was almost so fluffily romantic I almost didn't want to write an AN so that would be what you were left with. So go ahead, let it sink in, and then continue.**

…

**God, I was drowning in cotton candy at the end there. Damn.**

**Who are Daniel and Maria, you ask? It shouldn't be too hard to figure out. They'll have more importance later. Maybe.**

**Sorry if you don't like AusHun, but that's pretty much an established thing. I don't know what's going to happen to them as of yet, but for now they're going strong. Maybe _too _strong… (dun dun duuuuun)**

**The mystery bits pick up next chapter when someone may or may not get murdered. BUT WHO IS THE MURDLER? Only time will tell. **

**I hope you enjoyed! :D**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_In which there is almost a break in the case, and a powerful team may part ways._

At about noon, Francis finally finished questioning the female half of the staff. He didn't think it would take so long, but time really started to fly when you got bored and the staff was attractive.

He realized that Elisabeta had been sitting with Roderich in that horrible prison for hours, and went to relieve her. The poor girl, not knowing that her husband could have been cheating on her. And poor Roderich, not knowing that his wife was _definitely _cheating on him.

He found them sitting in the corner with their fingers entwined, content to be in each other's company. It made Francis throw up a bit in his mouth. "Elisabeta?"

Her eyes snapped open. "Francis! I…when did you get there?"

"Just now. Come, we have some new information I'd like to discuss with you." He shot a look at Roderich, who was sitting up and stretching around his wife's body. "Alone."

She frowned, but got up. The jailer, who had come with Francis, unlocked the door for her and she strode off with her friend after saying one last goodbye to her husband.

"What's this oh-so-important new information?" she asked on the way back to the manor. "Enough to call me away from quality time with my husband?"

"Your husband _who could have been cheating on you?" _Francis said dramatically. She stared at him. "Bet you didn't see _that _coming."

"Actually, Roderich told me."

Francis' face fell. "What, so I just questioned a whole score of maids and cooks for something you got in five minutes?"

She smiled. "Yes. Sometimes it just takes a woman's touch, Francis dear."

He snorted. "Well, then it's a good thing I've got you with me for my cases."

She stopped. "Actually…"

He gave her a concerned look. "What is it?" he asked. He noticed a maid behind him carrying a stack of laundry, but ignored her.

"After this case, I think I'd like to stay here with Roderich."

"…What?"

"When Roderich and I got engaged, we promised to stay married, and if that's really going to work, then I feel like I should be with him. It's nothing personal," she added quickly, "it's just that I want to be with my husband."

Francis forced out a grin. "After _all we've been through?"_

"Stop it." She sighed. "I understand why you might be upset, because we _have _been through a lot together. I don't mean to be blunt, but I just love Roderich more than you and I want to be with him properly."

The maid with the laundry was just about upon them now, but she dropped the stack when she heard Elisabeta's words. Elisabeta turned around at the soft _thwump _the clothes made when they hit the ground. "What's wrong, Felicia?"

"Do you truly mean that, ma'am? About wanting to stay with the baron?" she asked in a nervous tone of voice.

"Yes." Elisabeta smiled. "I think—"

"Then there is something very important I must tell you. Tonight, after dinner."

"What could it possibly be? Just tell me now—"

"No! After dinner!" Felicia said, more forcefully this time. "Now, if you'll please excuse me, I have some clothes I have to rewash." She picked up the clothing she'd dropped and rushed off toward the manor.

Elisabeta and Francis stared after her. "Well that was odd," Elisabeta said finally.

"Oh, yes, I forgot to tell you. I identified the voices I heard last night," Francis said.

"Really? Who were they?"

"The threatening one was Julchen Amsel, the cook, and the other one was—well, I'm pretty sure it was Felicia."

Elisabeta nodded slowly. "So how does this fit into the case?"

Francis shrugged. "Why don't we talk more inside? It's cold out here." He shivered dramatically.

Elisabeta grinned. "Monsieur, would you do me the honor of a race?"

"If you insist, Miss."

They took off toward the house, tripping on the snow and each other's ankles as they went, unaware that they were being watched by one cold pair of eyes.

When they arrived at the manor, both Elisabeta and Francis were sweaty from their run as well as soaked from the numerous times they had both fallen. Elisabeta called for a bath to be drawn for each of them—one in the master bathroom and another in Francis' guest bathroom. The head maid handed the task off to several younger girls while the pair went to strip down in their respective bedrooms. While passing the piano room where Roderich often composed his masterpieces, they caught a glimpse of none other than Julchen Beilschmidt caressing the keys lovingly. They decided not to talk about it.

After a long bath and rest, Elisabeta and Francis were called down to dinner by Felicia, who would apparently be serving them that evening. They went back to the huge dining room where the girl told them to wait for their food, which would be out momentarily.

She dashed into the kitchen and came back out several minutes later, pushing a cart with several platters on it. "Dinner this evening will either be steak, well marinated and served with greens and mashed potatoes, or pasta puttanesca, with—" She seized up all of a sudden, then fell to the ground.

Francis and Elisabeta jumped up in alarm. "Felicia?"

Elisabeta quickly examined the girl. "She's not breathing, and I can't feel a heartbeat." Her green eyes grew wide out of fear and pity for the poor girl. Francis ran to the kitchen.

"Felicia Vargas! When did she last eat?" he demanded of the cooks.

"Sh-She helps us cook the pasta. She tasted some of it from the pot just a few minutes before you both arrived," one of the cooks said shakily.

"Throw it out. Dump all of it. It's poisoned," the detective said to the shocked chefs. "Felicia has just been killed by that pasta."

He ran back to the dining room to warn Elisabeta, who was sitting over Felicia's body, trying to resuscitate her. "She was poisoned."

"Poisoned?"

"It was in the pasta. Stay here. I'll take it to the cooks." He took the cart back to the kitchen.

All the while, his mind was reeling. Who could want to kill poor Felicia? Someone who knew she helped cook the pasta. But what if the poison wasn't meant for her? What if it was meant for him, or Elisabeta? Could Felicia have known? Was that what she was trying to tell them?

Francis knew dead men told no tales. It would have made his job a lot easier if they could. But he'd heard something from the girl while she was still _alive_, and being threatened by Julchen Amsel.

Could the albino cook could have done it? But why would she want to kill Nicole Dupont, or Felicia, or anyone? She had no motive whatsoever. So it couldn't have been her. Could it?

He decided to keep his thoughts to himself. At least, for the time being. Because after all, if Nicole Dupont's murder and the poisoning of Felicia Vargas were linked, that meant that Elisabeta's husband was innocent, which, while being something his partner would want to know, was also something that would make him lonely again all the sooner.

* * *

**AN: Oh noes! Someone gave Felicia the POSION (and then they beat her, and then they raped her, and WAIT NO this is NOT legolas by laura SORRY EVERYBODY)! Who could it have been? Sauron? Only time will tell.**

**Edit 2: You guys wouldn't mind a sequel to this, right? Because I'm halfway through writing it...**

**I hope you enjoyed! :D**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

_In which a killer is unmasked and it is proven that chivalry is not yet dead._

The next morning, Francis skipped breakfast to talk to Roderich in prison, leaving Elisabeta to eat on her own. She wanted to come with, but he told her she needed to eat. She couldn't be there for what he was going to do. He needed to question Roderich when he didn't have Elisabeta to protect him.

He burst into the prison, bringing the wind and snow with him in his wake. Roderich rose from his straw cot with a start. "Shut that door, will you? It's freezing."

Francis slammed the door behind him and walked swiftly to Roderich's cell. When the man was close enough, he grabbed his shirt through the bars. "What happened on the night Nicole Dupont was murdered?" he hissed.

"I-I already told you!" Roderich protested.

"What you told me was a _lie _invented to protect Elisabeta. Tell me the whole story." Francis wouldn't have normally been so aggressive, but there was a possible threat to his life and Elisabeta's, and he didn't want to waste time with only pieces of a story when he could use the whole thing to catch the killer.

Roderich gulped. "I-I was composing, in my piano room. Nicole came in, and she offered to massage my back, and I said no because I was trying to concentrate on the harmonies in the piece. Suddenly she was under the piano, which must have been very uncomfortable with the pedals right there, and she unbuttoned my trousers and started to try to pleasure me." His eyes shifted to the ground. "I'm ashamed to say it worked."

"Go on," Francis growled.

"Well, she was in the middle of that when Felicia called. She said something like, 'Nicole, the head wants to talk to you about your dusting in the grand foyer!' Nicole apologized and got up and left. I tried to continue composing, but I was very distracted, and when she screamed a few minutes later I went running. She was lying there dead. I swear, that's the entire story."

Francis let go of Roderich, who stumbled to the floor of the cell. "So Felicia was in on it." Suddenly, it all clicked in his head. That was what she was trying to tell Elisabeta, that she knew who the killer was! So the killer poisoned the food they _knew _Felicia would be eating for the sake of the testing the flavor to silence her! And they had to have been the same person she had been threatened by in the kitchen that night, which meant…

"The killer was Julchen Amsel. But why?"

Roderich looked startled. "Julchen? Why would she kill Nicole Dupont?"

"Not just Nicole Dupont, Felicia Vargas as well. But why would she?" He furrowed his eyebrows, but it suddenly came to him, in the form of a memory of soft caresses on a piano's keys from the night before. "Would you say Ms. Amsel was a good servant?"

Roderich nodded. "Yes, the picture of perfection. She went above and beyond to do things well, though it felt a bit doting at times."

"It all makes sense!" Francis crowed. "Julchen was more than doting. She was in love with you. She must have found out about Nicole's plan to seduce you for your money, so she killed her with the help of the meekest girl in your staff, Felicia Vargas. But Felicia wasn't as shy as Julchen thought, so she killed her too." He grinned. Oh, he was brilliant.

"But if she's killing the women who are close to me, won't she go after my wife next?" Roderich asked nervously.

Francis' grin dropped off his face. "Elisabeta's in danger!"

Roderich went white as a sheet. Without thinking, Francis grabbed the keys to the cells from the hook across the hall and unlocked Roderich's cell. He dropped them to the ground and the pair took off running for the manor.

Seconds later, the jailer came in, rubbing his eyes sleepily. "Wuz goin'…oh no." He spotted the keys on the ground and ran off after the escaped criminal and detective, albeit slower thanks to his girth.

Elisabeta had finished her breakfast by that point, and immediately thought of the piano room where her husband spent most of his time. "I should go to straighten that up for him when he comes home. He'll be so happy." She smiled to herself and went to the piano room. Sitting on the bench, loving stroking the keys was Julchen. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

The cook jumped up. "Oh. Good morning, ma'am," she spat.

"Excuse me? That is no way to talk to the wife of your baron."

"The _whore _wife," Julchen muttered under her breath.

"_Excuse me?" _Elisabeta repeated. "Who do _you _think you are?"

"I think I'm the woman who loves the baron ten times more than you ever will, you tramp!" Julchen shouted. "You don't deserve Roderich." She pulled a bread knife out of her apron.

Elisabeta eyed the knife nervously. "Oh, and you do? You, a cook, a _servant? _Roderich could never be with the likes of you. It would shame his entire family."

"Better than marrying a slut!" cried Julchen, running toward Elisabeta with the knife in hand. Elisabeta just had time to pull her trusty frying pan out from under her skirts and parry the strike. Julchen growled and pushed back against the steel pan, but it was no use. She jumped away and ran at Elisabeta again, this time aiming her knife for Elisabeta's midsection. The baroness easily countered the move.

Julchen was starting to get desperate. She pulled a paring knife out of her apron and threw it at Elisabeta. The baroness coolly deflected it, and the next one. Julchen started launching random kitchen accessories, but Elisabeta deflected each one—every knife, fork, spoon, and whisk.

The cook was finally out of weapons aside from the bread knife. She ran at Elisabeta again, but this time she brought her leg up in a roundhouse kick to the face instead of trying to stab the other woman with the knife. Elisabeta tried to block the kick with the pan, but Julchen's legs were too strong and the pan flew out of her hands.

Julchen grinned and tackled the baroness, wrestling with her until she had pushed the brunette into the corner, knife at her throat. "Any…last…words?" she panted triumphantly.

Elisabeta smirked. "Just these. Roderich. Will never. _Love you._"

Julchen growled and raised the knife to go in for the kill.

"STAY AWAY FROM MY WIFE!"

Both women were momentarily startled. Julchen twisted her head around to see Roderich charging at her with a _sword _he had pulled off of the wall of the piano room. Julchen scrambled back, dropping her bread knife. In the confusion, Elisabeta slipped away to the other side of the room while Roderich held the sword to Julchen's throat just in time for the jailer and other household servants to run in.

"Did you kill Nicole Dupont?" Roderich demanded. "Answer now!"

"Yes! I killed that slut! And I killed Felicia Vargas, and I was _about _to kill that horrible wife of yours!" Julchen cried. "Oh, Roderich, she's terrible! She's been with at least _four men _besides you, she _deserves _to die!" Tears started to fall from her eyes. "Don't you see? I was only doing it for _you._ I was just removing all of the evil women who wanted to exploit you so we could be _happy _together."

"The only evil woman _I_ know is _you, _and the only woman I will ever be happy with is my _wife. _How dare you attack her!"

"Please, it was only because I love you—"

"And I love _her. _Elisabeta. And she is the only woman I ever _will _love." He glared down at the cook, who was starting to sob. "Know your place." He brought the sword down from her neck and used it to gesture from the jailer to her. "Here is your killer. She just confessed to it."

The jailer and some of the stronger male staff had Julchen bound with rope soon enough. Roderich took a few steps from her while they were busy, then dropped the sword and fell to his knees. Elisabeta ran to him, and she managed to steady him before he could collapse completely. "Thank you," she whispered as she hugged him fiercely.

He patted her back. "What are husbands for?"

Elisabeta looked up at Julchen. She had stopped crying and was glaring hatefully at Elisabeta from her place in the corner. She wouldn't stop until she had been led out of the room. Elisabeta shivered, but got up and helped her husband up. "I think you need a warm cup of tea to calm your nerves."

He smiled weakly. "Yes, that would be good."

With Francis' help, the three left the piano room and tried to make their way toward the kitchen. On their way, they were greeted by the entire remaining staff, who burst into applause when they saw Roderich. Chelle Dupont even ran forward to hug him, but when she saw he was barely being supported by his wife, hugged Francis instead, who was very pleased with the whole thing.

Finally, they were able to get to the kitchen, where the older cooks fussed over the couple and wrapped them up in a large blanket with mugs of tea. Francis opted out of the blanket and tea and decided instead on a private stress relief, courtesy of a young French maid with twintails.

Meanwhile, a certain person scribbled furiously in a journal not too far away. When they had finished, they muttered, "Hm, not as good as the others, but still, not bad. I can't wait to see what they do next." They stuffed the journal into their pocket, fastened a black cloak around their shoulders with a red rose-shaped clasp, and walked off.

* * *

**AN: Epilogue next, then another story after that! After all, who was that person at the end there? I mean, I know, but you all don't. I'm probably not going to leave any blatant clues for who they are except for what they call themselves. And is that even a clue? Hmm.**

**Because with that last paragraph there, shit just got REAL.**

**Anyway, what did you think of that fight scene? It's not great, but it's honestly the best fight scene I have ever written. I am just terrible at those. All my notes said for that bit was "finds J, who admits unrequited love and attacks E! E fights steak knife w/pan, but eventually knocked away and pushed into corner."**

**But no one puts Lizzie in a corner!**

…**I'll go and kill myself now.**

**But I hope you enjoyed! :D**


	5. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

_In which one adventure ends and another begins._

Once again, Francis was boarding a train. This time, however, he was boarding it with only his luggage to accompany him.

"We'll miss you!" Elisabeta told him as he was just about to board. "Really, we will. Without you, we never would have proved Roderich innocent, and I could have been killed. Thank you."

He smiled. "Just doing my job."

"No, really. It was more than that," Elisabeta insisted. "You didn't have to do this for us. We're really thankful. So thank you again."

"You're…you're welcome, Elisabeta."

"Oh! Chelle wanted me to give this to you!" She pulled an envelope out of her pocket and handed it to the Frenchman. "She said not to open it until you're back in France. She says it's _really _important that you get it."

Francis nodded and slipped the envelope into his pocket. "Well, I should really be getting onto the train now, so—"

Elisabeta hugged him tightly, burying her face into his shoulder. "I'm going to miss you," she said quietly. "You're my best friend, Francis."

"Then come with me," he muttered quietly.

She stood back. "I can't. You're my best friend, and I love you, but Roderich…"

The detective nodded. "I understand. Take good care of yourself."

"I will. Have a safe trip. Don't get murdered," she joked.

"Don't you get killed either."

"But if I do, you'll find whoever did it. I know you will." She smiled at him.

He forced a smile back. "Goodbye, Mrs. Edelstein."

"Goodbye, Mr. Bonnefois."

He turned around and boarded the train, never looking back. Elisabeta stayed in the station until the train was well out of sight, then walked all the way home.

* * *

Francis made it back to Paris safely, and told himself that he was going to enjoy his city to the fullest. He would get back to his real job, a private detective for the wealthy and a sometimes-consultant to the police, like his friend in London.

But it just wasn't the same. The wealthy were all _boring _and their problems were even more dull, and the real criminals of Paris had apparently decided it was too cold to do anything. He spent the next two weeks moping around his apartment, playing chess with his landlord, and drinking far too much wine.

One morning, Francis woke up to the sun shining in his face and a hangover going full blast. He forced himself to wake up and drink some coffee, then walked down the street to buy a newspaper.

"BELGIAN MASS-MURDERER ESCAPES FROM HIGH-SECURITY PRISON", read the headlines. Francis was intrigued. Maybe he would get a case out of it.

The picture that went along with the headline made his heart stop.

"That's…Bella Peeters," he murmured. Oh, he knew who that woman was. He was the one who caught her. It had been his first case with…

He paid the man at the stand and went back to his apartment to read the rest of the article. "Authorities stumped as to how this woman could have escaped, as she was under maximum security. Neither of the guards at her cell noticed anything suspicious, only that she hadn't moved all night. When breakfast was called, the guards went in to fetch her, only to find that the shape under the blankets was not Ms. Peeters, but some bunched-up straw."

He really ought to warn Elisabeta. What if Bella decided to go after her?

Thinking about his former partner made him remember the envelope she had given him at the train station, which he still hadn't opened. He felt a pang of guilt toward the poor maid who had written the letter. He dug the envelope and opened it.

The first thing he noticed was the overpowering smell of roses that came with breaking the rose-shaped seal on the envelope. He pulled out the letter.

_Dear Mr. Bonnefois,_

_Did it really take you so long to read this letter? You obviously don't care for Miss Dupont very much at all. No, I myself am not Miss Dupont. That poor girl has nothing to do with this letter excepting that she delivered it. _

_You may call me "The Rose". Do not bother finding out who I am, for you never will until I choose to reveal myself to you. All I will tell you is that I am a fan of yours—the biggest fan of yours, in fact. I especially like the cases you do with Miss Héderváry, which is why I am so upset._

_Really, I was beside myself with anger when I discovered the two of you would no longer be working together. So angry, in fact, that I decided I _must _have the two of you start solving cases together again, which brings me to my next point._

_I have released Bella Peeters from prison. I will not tell you how I did so. Do not bother to ask. I will inform you that she is furious, and all she would like to do now that she is free is kill Elisabeta, and then you, for imprisoning her in the first place._

_However, she does not know where either of you are. Luckily for her, I have provided her with clues in the form of five black hairpins scattered around the European continent. I have no doubt she will eventually find Elisabeta, which is why you must find her first._

_You must find the pins before she does. Your hairpins will be orange. Find your five orange pins before Bella Peeters can find her five black pins, and Elisabeta's life is safe. If Miss Peeters wins, there is no such guarantee._

_Do not bother to warn Miss Héderváry. If you do, I will immediately tell Miss Peeters of her location and wherever she decides to go next._

_I do hope you enjoy this little game I've set up. Though, your enjoyment comes second to mine, and with such high stakes, how could I not?_

_Your clue for your first pin is _"Flanders et Wallonia".

_Good luck!_

_-The Rose_

Francis read the letter over several times in disbelief. This was impossible. What kind of psycho would do this?

Assuming it was serious, though. But they knew about Bella Peeters' escape! And they knew about it _two weeks before it happened._

He sat down and dropped the letter to the floor. If what the letter said was true, Elisabeta could be in danger. His best friend.

He had to find those five orange pins, no matter what.

* * *

Someone very close by laughed into their hand. Of _course _Francis would accept the challenge. If he hadn't, after all, Elisabeta would die. And poor, oblivious Francis would never let that happen.

They scribbled something down in a little journal. That something was, _Let the games begin._

* * *

**AN: Like I said. Shit just got real.**

**But seriously, who the hell _is _this person? Are they male, or female? Nyotalia, or normal? 2P or 1P (okay, 1P, I don't know enough about 2P to do it)? Are they even a canon character, or an OC? And who is Bella Peeters? Answers to these question will either not be provided for a loooong time or will be provided in the story titled A Scandal in Brussels. Which is not the sequel. **

**And since I took such a god awful long time to update, as an apology I AM POSTING A SCANDAL IN BRUSSELS NOW. By the time you finish reading this, A SCANDAL IN BRUSSELS WILL BE UP FOR YOU TO READ.**

**The sequel is called "The Five Orange Pins". Stay tuned.**


	6. Sequel Note

Hi everyone! I hate these as much as you do, but it must be done for the sake of the point in which this is posted.

If you're several months in the future, this note is probably obsolete! (I say probably because I am an extremely unreliable person and you never know what I might do.) So you can skip it.

Anyway, the sequel to this story is up! It is called "The Five Orange Pins". If you're interested in reading it, go do so now. Or bookmark it for later. Either is fine.

If this is the future and the story you are reading is _not _the precursor to the story mentioned above, then it was far too late at night for me to be posting this note and I forgot to edit it for the purposes of this particular story. Sorry!


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